


A Parody of Manners

by WynCatastrophe



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (TV 2008), Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Multi, Parody, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynCatastrophe/pseuds/WynCatastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it.

Author's note: A longish while ago, What-Ansketil-Did-Next asked me to write a house party fic. I have no reason to suppose that this is what she had in mind, but it's what she's getting, anyway. (Sadly, not in time for her birthday … but then on the other hand, considering the fic, perhaps that's just as well.) Anyway. So here is a parody using a bunch of characters from the SW universe and a couple of others I just made up on the fly. Or stole back from other stories I'd already written. (Whatever.) Chapter title from the song "Crazy," by Gnarls Barkley. Adheres to my usual philosophy for humor: situations are funny, but characters are played for keeps. Set in no particular 'verse.

 **[A Parody of Manners]**

 **Chapter One:**

 **Even Your Emotions Have an Echo**

"I fail to see how attending a highly politicized house party hosted by your ex-lover's secret wife's married sister is going to be anything less than a disaster," said Evinne.

Ryn looked up from folding clothes she could only sketchily identify into a suitcase that, in her considered opinion, was at least half as big as she was and definitely three times larger than it needed to be. "Anakin asked me to go," she said stubbornly. "I won't let him down."

"Let's review," said Evinne, not quite patiently. "Your ex-lover - _very ex_ , Ryn, he _married another woman_ \- wants you to go to a house party with him and a bunch of people you don't know - oh, _and his wife_." Exasperation was rife in her tone. "What was he _thinking?_ Unless he wants to bang you both, of course, in which case I don't think Padmé's the type."

"Not _with_ him," said Ryn. "Padmé would never stand for that. He just ... wants me to be there."

"Uh-huh." Evinne's skepticism was clear. "Have you thought about _why_?"

"Doesn't matter," said Ryn forcefully. "He wants me there, so I'm going. Maybe he needs me to watch his back among all those politicians."

"Or maybe he needs a decoy to help him get into Padmé's bedroom." Evinne leaned forward, her blue eyes unusually earnest. "He's using you, Shorty."

Ryn bowed her head, looking down at the profusion of sept-silk and lace under her hands. "He can have me any way he wants me," she said, and snapped the case shut.

It was the social, and maybe the political, coup of the season. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was attending her house party. Well, really Sola's house party, but since it was Padmé's idea and she had taken a hand in the planning, she felt a certain sense of ownership about it. Anyway, they couldn't have had it at Padmé's house, because Padmé was still (officially) unmarried and she didn't _have_ a house.

She paused in her perusal of the R.S.V.P. list to glance out the window, but she wasn't really seeing the lush landscape of Sola's grounds. She was lost in a vision of some other life, in which she could be Anakin's wife not just in secret, but for _real_. She didn't _feel_ like a wife, yet. Not when nobody knew her secret. Being married was supposed to _change_ things.

 _Well ..._ Padmé bit back a giggle, blushing furiously as she remembered. Being married had changed _some_ things. She'd had no idea her body could _feel_ that way.

"Hurry, my love," she whispered, knowing she was being melodramatic and not caring. "I can't wait to feel you in my arms again."

Actually, that wasn't where she couldn't wait to feel him, but even a secretly-married woman could only be so bold. There were some things Padmé couldn't make herself say.

Anakin would hear them in her kisses anyway.

Obi-Wan Kenobi glanced down at the invitation again, not surprised exactly, but a little puzzled all the same. It wasn't _strange_ for Padmé to invite him, but it was a little out of the ordinary. And for the Council to send him there, in the middle of the war ... well, it was certainly true that they needed to cultivate a more friendly relationship with the Senate, but it hardly seemed necessary to start with Padmé. She had been one of the Jedi's strongest supporters.

"Anakin," he said, looking up from the invitation to his erstwhile apprentice, who was completing their flight-check. "Are you sure you're ... up to this? If you felt that it was ... in any way _hazardous_ to your ... serenity ... I'm sure the Council would -"

"Obi-Wan." The younger man waited until Obi-Wan was meeting his eyes. "I'll be fine, all right? It's just a party. And Ryn will be there."

"Er ... yes." Obi-Wan had a feeling his plan of distracting Anakin with Ryn a few months ago had gone rather less well than he would have liked; outwardly, at least, Anakin was his usual self, nothing different that couldn't be explained by the hardships of war, but Ryn was looking ... a little tireder, a little sadder. Even more desperate when she was around Anakin. "Well, I hope you both find some time to relax."

"I'm sure we will, Master."

Sly Moore handed Palpatine his briefcase and an extra datareader, just in case. "Don't forget, sir - I'll be checking in with you at -"

"At oh-nine-hundred every morning," Palpatine finished indulgently, smiling at his assistant. "Yes, I know. You're very punctual. Now do stop worrying, and try to relax for the flight."

Sly gave him a not-entirely-satisfied look. "Yes, sir. I'll see you on Naboo."

"I see we're the first to arrive," Bail Organa greeted Padmé, letting Sola's groomsman deliver their small transport to the private docking bay behind the house. "Not too early, I hope?"

"It's never too soon to see old friends," Padmé answered, smiling. The words were practiced, but the voice was warm; Padmé was one of the few people who could make the tired pleasantries of the galaxy's elite sound genuine again. "Breha, I'm so glad you could make it."

Bail's wife's smile rivaled Padmé's: truly, two of the few good women left in these dark times. "I wouldn't have missed it, Padmé." She leaned forward, moving a little gingerly still, and kissed the younger woman's cheek. "Is there anything we can do to help you prepare for the next arrivals?"

"No, no, everything is in hand." Something had her blushing, but Padmé shook it off. "Please. Come in and meet my sister."

And the party began.


	2. she ain't real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction and I am not making any profit from it. Chapter title from ADELE's "Rumor Has It."

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction and I am not making any profit from it. Chapter title from ADELE's "Rumor Has It."

 **[A Parody of Manners]**

 **CHAPTER TWO:**

 **she ain't real**

 **\/~~~\/**

* * *

She found Anakin busy entertaining Sola's children in the garden.

"Jedi Skywalker," she greeted him.

"So formal, milady?" inquired her husband, eyes dancing. He flowed to his feet like water - _water doesn't run uphill, Padmé, that's ridiculous_ \- and swept her an exaggerated bow. "Your servant, Senator."

Pooja giggled. "He's being silly, Aunt Padmé!"

"So he is," Padmé agreed, smiling in spite of herself. "I suppose we have known each other too long to stand on ceremony."

"Much too long," Anakin affirmed, still twinkling at her. "And speaking of formality ... what is that you're wearing?" He gestured at Padmé's staid, high-necked gown. "I hope you're not going swimming in that."

Padmé tilted her nose up. "I'm not going to swimming at all," she informed him primly.

"But it's such a hot day," said Anakin, duly solemn.

It _was_ hot. Padmé glanced at the sky. "It could storm."

Anakin spared a quick look for the puffy white clouds. "I don't think so," he said. "Why, are you afraid you might get wet?"

"It's dangerous to go swimming in a storm," Padmé told him. "When lightning strikes the water -"

"But it's not storming yet," Anakin pointed out, entirely too gleeful. And Ryoo and Pooja want to see where you used to try and guess the names of the birds singing."

"The birds - Anakin, you didn't!"

It ought to be illegal for anyone to look that cocky. "Didn't what, milady?"

But Padmé only gazed narrowly at him. There was no reason she could safely offer for why he should not divulge their conversation at the lake retreat, so many months ago, except what had happened ... _after_. She caught Anakin's eyes and glanced hastily away, a blush rising to her already warm cheeks.

"Ryoo and Pooja aren't yet old enough to swim so far."

This gave rise to a chorus of protest that they were, _too_ , old enough. Padmé found it harder to deflect their insistence as she had been very little older when she did the same on school retreats. But then Anakin interposed with - Padmé suspected - exactly the devious suggestion he'd been angling toward all along. "You know what we need?" he exclaimed, putting on the air of one suddenly struck with a new thought. "A swimming lesson!"

This proposal was greeted by her nieces with shrieks of approval so loud they drowned out Padmé's more temperate protestations. "Please, Aunt Padmé, _pleeeeease!_ "

She glared at her husband, but Anakin remained unrepentant. "Come on," he cajoled her. The sound of his voice hummed through her blood, tingling in places she tried not to think about. "It' the perfect day for it. Besides," he added, turning serious for a moment, "Ryoo and Pooja don't get to spend nearly enough time with you."

It was her weak spot because it was true, and he knew it. Padmé glanced at their round little faces and sighed. "All right," she decided, not nearly as reluctant as she knew she should be. "Let me go change."

If anyone had asked Padmé, before she embarked on her course, what were her expectations of a secret marriage, she would probably have thought of the romance of stolen kisses, of love hidden under cover of night. But Anakin, she had soon found, was as happy in the yard as in the bedroom, in daylight as in darkness: he was happy anywhere, as long as he was with her. He loved making love to her; but he loved doing everything else with her, too. So far from being jealous of this time spent with her nieces, he was eager to share it.

 _And this is why I love him._

The hours of that afternoon, dabbling around in the water near the shore while Anakin taught her - itheir/i, though no one could know it - nieces to swim better, were golden. Padmé lay back on the shore, or floated quietly on her back, and watched Anakin teaching the girls new strokes, or doing tricks for them with the Force and his own considerable agility. She lost herself in a thousand pleasant fantasies that they would one day do this with their own children. Having a family was far too dangerous; Ryoo and Pooja would have to be enough.

It was too good to last, and so Padmé was disappointed, but not surprised, when a voice called for Anakin and his friend Ryn appeared around a turn in the path.

"Anakin!" she sang out again, swinging her way to the edges of the bank. "You're wanted in the house. Obi-Wan sent me to find you."

____________________________________________________________________________________

He glanced up at Ryn's call, annoyed at the interruption and guilty for feeling annoyed.

 _It's not Ryn's fault,_ he told himself. But the urge to shoot the messenger (metaphorically speaking) made his voice a little rougher than he'd meant for it to be: "What's going on?"

Ryn shook her head, light flashing on the earrings half-hidden in her dark hair. "Chancellor Palpatine has hopes the Jedi will be able to resolve a budding crisis."

"You don't sound too hopeful yourself."

"I"m a cynic," said Ryn, but he could see the smile lurking in her eyes as he clambered out onto the bank. "Also, it involves politics."

Anakin winced. "Really?"

"A Senator's aide, Bothan." Her mouth tightened briefly as she glanced at Padmé. "I probably shouldn't say any more. Master Kenobi will brief you - and if all goes well, there will be no crisis after all."

Of course that just made Padmé more curious. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Anakin caught Ryn's shiver of hesitation, in the instant before she shook her head again. "It's not for me to say, Senator. I understand the situation only very imperfectly myself."

'Well," said Padmé, shooing Ryoo and Pooja out of the water ahead of her, "I invited most of the politicians here. I have a duty to help keep the harmony if I can. Lead on."

Ryn waited for Anakin's nod before bowing. "Yes, Senator. If you will follow me?"

_________________________________________________________________________________

Ryn kept a tight rein on her feelings as she led the way up the path and into the house. It was not unreasonable, she told herself, that the Senator should want to take part in peace-making efforts at a party for which she was widely regarded to be at least halfway responsible. Sola Naberrie might be the hostess, but there could be little doubt that Padmé Amidala was the primary mover behind this enterprise.

It was further not unreasonable - though it burned Ryn like cold iron to think of it - that Padmé should want to accompany her secret husband on his errands, however mundane.

 _The only unreasonable one here,_ Ryn concluded, grinding her teeth, _is_ me _. Because it_ is _unreasonable to go following a man who_ does not love you _around the galaxy like a lost akk. Idiot!_ But instead of announcing her intention to depart, or finding something better to do, Ryn threw open the door to the small study where she had left Obi-Wan and Palpatine closeted with the young Bothan Senator's aide. "Here we are!"

________________________________________

A being less inured to the claims of compassion could not have failed to be moved by the tragic spectacle young Orun kept making of herself. Palpatine had given up the tender emotion of pity long ago, and yet it blended curiously with his contempt for her. The girl was so obviously in despair, stricken with love for Skywalker and knowing she had no hope of winning him. She made no attempt to hold his attention as she announced their entrance, just followed him forlornly with her green eyes.

Amidala was another matter. Even distressed by the necessity of keeping the true nature of her relationship with Skywalker secret, she _glowed_ , fulfilling all the most clichéd promises of a woman in love - and, better still, sure in her heart that she was loved in return. She betrayed not a doubt of Anakin's devotion.

Anakin himself was laughably transparent - but since Kenobi was putting himself to such pains to ignore this, Palpatine supposed he could do no less than pretend, at least, to do the same.

"Anakin, thank you for coming." Kenobi bowed to Amidala. "Senator, I hope we have not inconvenienced you."

"Not at all," said Padmé, smoothly and implausibly. "Anakin was just helping me to give my nieces a swimming lesson."

"Ah." Kenobi looked justifiably nonplussed at this intelligence; Orun stepped nimbly into the gap.

"If you won't be needing me," she said, carefully addressing herself to the party at large, "I thought I might take the young ladies to get changed. Senator, shall I bring you a robe?"

It wasn't the most graceful diversion Palpatine had ever seen, but it was swift and effective; his estimation of the Jedi's pet barbarian went up a notch.

"Yes, thank you, Ryn," said Amidala with great condescension. "And if you could have someone send us refreshments?"

It was the kind of speech Naboo's bourgeoisie made not to their familiars, but to upper-class servants, and something in Orun's still face said she knew it. But she didn't quibble. She gave the Senator a bow so low as to be sarcastic, ushered the children out before her, and was gone.

Palpatine turned from his contemplation of her departure to find Anakin blushing over his wife's behavior in uncomfortable silence. _So the boy has some standards after all_. It would be rash to try and probe him with the Force in front of Kenobi; rash even to touch Skywalker with the Dark Side except from a distance. But even without such assistance, Palpatine could see the way Anakin's eyes slid away from his wife's, unwilling to confront her and yet unable to support the way she had spoken to his friend. Probably in a few hours' time he would have contrived to bury the conflict and convince himself that he had merely misconstrued Amidala's tone or some such nonsense; but for now, at least, there was a crack in his defenses.

There was, however, very little chance of turning it to account under Master Kenobi's watchful eye, so Palpatine contented himself with throwing a little salt in the wound. "Remarkable girl!" he observed genially to Amidala. "So handy. I can understand what the Jedi see in her."

"Her Grace," said Kenobi coolly, "devotes herself to serving others, after the fashion of the nobility among her people."

The intervention gave Palpatine pause, as much because he hadn't seen it coming as anything. He had underrated either Kenobi's audacity in diplomacy or his attachment - ha! the Jedi would love that - to Orun.

"She has certainly done great service for the Republic," he agreed mildly. "That young woman is fast becoming a war hero to rival even your own well-deserved fame."

That drew a laugh from Anakin. "Don't let Ryn hear you say that, sir," he said. "She hates it almost as much as Master Obi-Wan does." The look he exchanged with Kenobi bespoke a private joke, and a shared knowledge of the woman in question.

 _Laugh together all you want. That will only make your betrayal that much sweeter._

 ________________________________________________________________

The Bothan aide, a young female with soft brown eyes and pale cream fur, was clearly uncomfortable with all the direct attention and yet unwilling to break down.

"You are sure that Senator Orn Free Taa intended the gesture as an indication of sexual interest?" Obi-Wan asked her one more time, more for Anakin and Padmé's benefit than out of any real doubt as to the answer.

"Master Kenobi," the young aide assured him with great dignity, "the ruffling of one's nose-fur is widely known to be a gesture of great intimacy among my people."

'I believe you," said Obi-Wan gently. "My concern is whether Senator Taa is indeed as well-informed as you think. Is it possible that you may be giving his multicultural education too much credit?"

"Master Kenobi," interrupted Palpatine with still more dignity than the accuser, "I am afraid Miss Beiy'ssa has a point. Ignorance is no excuse. If Senator Taa wishes to employ a multicultural staff that crosses special barriers, he has some obligation to educate himself in order to prevent exactly such incidents as these. He could have avoided the whole problem by hiring a Twi'lek staff."

"I believe," said Obi-Wan, striving for patience, "that Senator Taa altered the composition of his office staff precisely to avoid the accusations of sexual profligacy that ensued from his employment of Twi'lek females."

Palpatine spread his hands. "There you have it, Master Kenobi. The Sneator was aware of the dangers. And - if I may say so - the need to replace his staff once already does not speak well for him. _Where there's smoke there's fire_ , you know."

In this extremity of specious reasoning, Obi-Wan turned to Padmé as the frequent voice of reason. But the senior Senator from Naboo looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Master Kenobi," she said. "If Senator Taa does have a reputation for being overly familiar with his aides, there is every reason to suppose that it is deserved. Our first concern must be to protect this young woman."

"Have _you_ ever witnessed this excessive familiarity?" Obi-Wan pressed her.

Padmé hesitated. "He is certainly friendly with the Senate chamber aides."

"Maybe he's just _friendly_ ," Anakin suggested, with a sort of odd vehemence that Obi-Wan found it hard to place.

Ryn walked in and shut the door behind her. "Here," she said, tossing a bright green bundle at Padmé. She refocused on Palpatine. "Senator Orn Free Taa just made a pass at me in the hallway. It's not looking good for him."

"Oh, dear," said Obi-Wan.

Palpatine looked serious and resigned.

Padmé shook out the bundle and stared at it. "This isn't mine."

"No, it's mine," Ryn said. "And I want it back when you're done. Damn thing's worth more than my life."

Padmé held the garment up, still staring at its garish splendor. "Are those Brithian topaz?"

"Yes," said Ryn. "Looked like your style."

Obi-wan had to run a hand over his beard to hide a smile. He wasn't used to hearing Ryn deliver politely veiled insults; to tell the truth, he hadn't thought she had it in her. But the jab at Padmé's admittedly opulent taste was well-aimed.

"I'd no idea you kept track of fashions," said Palpatine blandly, and Ryn gave him a smile with too many teeth in it.

"Oh, Senator Amidala's sense of style is famous," she said.

The young Bothan looked fascinated; probably she was trying to memorize the undercurrents for posterity.

 _What you're seeing here,_ Obi-Wan thought at her, _is a love triangle. Force help us all._

He cleared his throat, bent on redirecting the conversation before one of the women drew blood or Anakin did something rash to stop them. "Fashion aside, gentlebeings, we have to decide what to do about Senator Orn Free Taa."

"Why?" asked Ryn, and they all turned to stare at her.

But you couldn't make Ryn talk that way. Instead of explaining herself, she folded her arms and assumed a relaxed stance, apparently prepared to wait until they either broke down and asked or came up with some conclusions of their own.

Obi-wan had a private theory that Ryn's plan for defeating the Separatists would be to just _wait_ them to death.

Baiy'ssa broke first. "The Senator was _harassing_ me!" she protested, sounding about as intimidating as a Bothan with a lamentably high-pitched voice could, which was not at all.

"So?" said Ryn. She did unimpressed pretty well. Probably she'd had a lot of practice lately. "Sue him or don't." She shifted her gaze to Obi-Wan. "It's none of our business."

"There will be a scandal," said Padmé doubtfully.

"Well, the Senator should have thought of that before he stroked somebody's fur," said Ryn, low on sympathy today. " _If_ he did, which under Republic law will have to be proven." Her sharp green eyes rested on Beiy'ssa. "Right now it's your word against his."

"You said he just made a pass at you!" Anakin exclaimed, but Obi-Wan could see where Ryn was going with this, because he'd already gotten there himself.

"I told you: I'm a cynic," Ryn said to Anakin, but there was a gleam of humor in her eyes, that not-quite-smile that lit her face when she was teasing. "Besides, Senators are notoriously predatory."

"I beg your pardon?" gasped Padmé, outraged. She had put on Ryn's translucent green wrap, dazzling with jewels, and her arms flashed under the lights as she gestured.

Ryn's smile could have flayed a wild gundark. "You heard me."

" _Ryn,_ " said Anakin, plainly sensing disaster.

"What?" Ryn asked him, implacable. "You don't think half the Senate is sleeping with their help?" She turned to Padmé. " _Name_ a Senator who's never slept with an aide or a bodyguard or a receptionist."

Padmé choked, her mouth working, but it was hard to tell whether that was because she couldn't come up with a name or because she was justly furious.

Obi-Wan fought the urge to strangle his heretical friend. "Ryn's right about one thing," he said, cutting into the argument before anyone could comment on the fact that Padmé wasn't naming _herself_. The other five looked at him expectantly. "Making accusations without going to court is a good way to ruin Senator Taa's reputation without having to _prove_ anything."

Beiy'ssa looked near tears. "But how can I prove anything?" she wailed. "We were _alone!_ "

"And, if I may say so," Palpatine interjected, "this would hardly be the first such accusation to attach itself to Senator Taa."

Obi-Wan glanced at Ryn, but apparently she had done her damage for the day. _How very kriffing helpful_ , he thought, more angry with her than he'd ever been with Anakin and Padmé. At least they'd recognized the destructiveness of their behavior and altered course, at great personal cost. Ryn was just ...

 _Furious. She's furious. But out of jealousy, or because she thinks -_ knows _\- that Padmé broke her friend's heart?_

His conscience was a treacherous whisper in his breast: _And whose fault is that?_

"We can start by getting you out of the Senator's sphere of influence," Palpatine was saying to Beiy'ssa in soothing tones. "Then ... the Jedi can investigate the rest."

"How, sir?" asked Anakin.

"I'm sure I don't know," answered Palpatine, giving him an avuncular smile. "But it can't be the first time you've had to search for the truth in spite of obstacles."

That made Anakin stand straighter. "No, sir."

"Good." Palpatine favored the room with a more general expression of geniality. "It's a start, at least. Commander Orun, if you could escort Miss Beiy'ssa to her room and make sure she is undisturbed, I will instruct my assistant to arrange transport for her."

"That's not necessary," said Beiy'ssa quickly. "I can finish out this last -"

"We wouldn't dream of putting you through such a thing," said Palpatine, and Beiy'ssa caved and preceded Ryn out of the room.


End file.
